


Sehnsucht

by PRabbit



Category: Team Fortress 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-23
Updated: 2013-05-23
Packaged: 2017-12-12 18:31:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/814664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PRabbit/pseuds/PRabbit
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The BLU Scout finds himself pinned by a medic.<br/>This was a short Medic/Scout writing for WritingCyan</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sehnsucht

Winter brought longing. A body fell to the roar of his gun, smoke trailing behind. Another followed, eyes unable to catch its murderer. Amid dust and turmoil he dodged between the blurred line and friend and foe. But speed provided no shield against the flames of battle. Blood mixed with the dirt under his feet. Always moving, never stop. Stop and you’re dead. A few feet away ripped and explosion sending him rolling back between two buildings in a cloud of dust and confusion. More blood stained his blue shirt leaving it more akin to his enemy’s. The sharp point of a blade stumbled toward him. Just enough time to raise his gun.

Half of the Sniper fell beside him, the other half sprayed against the wall. Heart racing and legs begging for a rest, the Scout ignored any bodily complaint and rose to his feet. After a brief stagger he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Trails of his frozen exhales swirled in the brisk air. Keep moving. Now barren of fighting, the clearing hung in bitter silence. The brief stint of snow still clung to the ground despite being riddled with foot prints. Bullets rang on farther down the base to mock the left behind runner. His fists tightened, eager to rejoin the carnage. Perhaps he could locate a med pack on the way back. 

The Scout had not even passed the first corner before he saw what he thought to be a cache of medical equipment. Similar color but moving: a white coat tail disappearing after a flash of red. He pulled out his bat, grinning at the prospect developing. Catching one of guard was one joy, trapping one alone never ceased to amuse him. Through the door way he jogged, making sure to check each route before moving on. Legs waivered. Perhaps the rocket impact had left him more injured than he was willing to admit. In frustration he stopped, letting his body rest. A hand brought to scratch on his chest returned soaked with blood. In distraction he never saw the glint of steel.

Fingers stroked the area from where blood leaked. So tender they began; a gentle touch from a skilled, worried hand. So it was with fear and surprise the Scout stood pinned against the wall behind a suffocating force, staring at the precise edge of an ubersaw lingering inches from his face.

“Wie geht’s, my little rabbit.”

The Scout pushed back, returning the Medic’s glare. “This is why I hate doctahs.”

His mouth clamped shut, forced by the Medic’s gloved hand. Despite the chill, blood on the rubber surface remained wet, smearing on the Scout’s face. He jerked his body to gain an advantage once more, twisting with a grunt against the older man. The Medic’s broad face grinned back, eyes glaring over his small round glasses as he tightened his hold. The Scout brawled at every opportunity, at home and abroad. He easily spotted a large opening in the doctor’s stance. Muscles tensed in preparation. Soon the bastard would be begging for mercy.

His eyes widened. The Medic shifted his hand, still keeping fingers digging into skin. Scout’s breath faltered. Amid chilled vapors he stared at the thick glass vial of the ubersaw. A red, faintly glowing liquid sloshed around. It hung near full, needing only one final taste of blood to bring it to satisfaction. The Scout swallowed, feeling the edge of metal kiss the flesh on his neck. Blood trickled down, its journey warm against his cold skin.

Hanging his head in shame, the Scout saw no other conclusion than one. “Finish it yah bastard!” He grumbled his surrender but spit at the doctor in frustration. 

The Medic pushed his blade further. A hand rose to wipe the saliva off its owner’s face. Teeth still bared in a grin, his nose flared, exhaling hot air to rise as freezing vapor against the Scout’s own shuddering breath.

“Nicht so schnell.” Medic’s hand returned to the Scout’s shirt. Fingers stroked down an arm. The runner felt his spine shiver as he watched the doctor lick his lips long and slow, the sick message reflecting in his mad eyes. “Vhy not stay.” More hot breath fell against tense skin. “And enjoy zhe company?”

Muscles retched back in disgust yet nerves lingered on the touch. Medic’s hand glided lower, tips groping the tone form with a coveting stare. Filled with aversion, the Scout sputtered out swears but could not find the constitution to form full words. Onward his assailant admired his body until fingers reached his waist. There they stroked along the outline of a growing erection.

“Fuck! St, stop!” The Scout rambled on, will to reprise kept back by the ubersaw. “S, sick pervert!”

The Medic chuckled, low and cruel, reflecting his lust. To have a Scout alone, wounded and vulnerable. He bit his lip at the scent of blood and sweat so close against his prize. The doctor leaned in, inhaling the musk dripping with fear, rage and a touch of desire. Closing his eyes, he trailed his tongue along the runner’s tender neck. Tendons shuddered under his touch. The Scout tensed, sick of the scenario unfolding.

“Get off me!”

In a flurry the Scout lashed out. Blows fell against the Medic and in his distraction the ubersaw lost its advantageous positioning. Yet his grin remained. Taking the hits he watched the Scout brawl, sloppy and panicked. AN opening presented itself at once. Amid the struggling, the Medic rushed forward, one hand snatching the Scout’s head with the other gripping an arm hard. The poor fool could do nothing as his limp was bent behind him back with a crack, face grinding into the wall. The Medic dug his fingers to make sure his pet got the message.

“Wie schoen.” He exhaled against the back of Scout’s neck. “And so spirited.”

Hopelessly pinned, the Scout shook against the perverse hold of his attacker. In desperation he writhed and twisted but found his attempts countered by skilled, cruel hands. Now in control, the Medic used his weight to keep his prey still. Legs and torso pressed against the runner, not shy to slide over the lithe, fit body before them. Power and speed remained the Scout’s advantage but the doctor’s demoralizing tactics kept him at the cruel German’s mercy.

One at a time the Medic raised a hand to his face, teeth gripping rubber as he removed his gloves. Normally covered skin pricked up in the chill air. He near moaned from hungry fingers stroking under the Scout’s shirt. Frosted exhales rose as one from their entangled forms.

Tears formed in the Scout’s eyes while he stood helpless against the violation. Lips kissed his neck. Hands wandered lower and lower, feeling each muscle. He winced. His limbs froze, unable to move, will drained. Not like this. Hissing through his teeth, the Scout knew his inability to fight back did not come from fear, but from longing. A longing he strained to fight but found himself losing. Medic’s hand coiled around his erection.

“Mach dir keine Sorgen.” Chest heaving, the doctor cooed to his little rabbit in German. “Ich will nur deine Haut.” The Scout understood nothing but could feel the longing in the words. “Nur ein Hauch” Two hands now down his pants, groping with warm fingers. He bit back a moan. “Bitte, bitte mein Kaninchen.” Teeth closed on the skin of the Scout’s shoulder. He couldn’t help himself and released a shuddering groan in the cold. “Bitte.”

The Medic continued hissing whispers of lust into the runner’s ear while his hands probed. He had waited for so long. He knew just were to rub his thumb over the head, wear to dip him fingers and insert a few lower, prying and loving every inch. Tears fell to the ground. Scout moaned as heat welled up inside him. He could feel Medic’s own hard cock grinding against his ass. How could he like this, he couldn’t be enjoying this. 

The Scout yelled as he released onto the wall. His scream echoed out of frustration in his pleasure. After, he slumped down against the Medic who held him with a smile. Disgusted he turned out of the grasp to lay on the ground. The doctor picked his ubersaw off the ground, the glow of its liquid taunting the broken runner.

Bending down, the Medic knelt beside his pet. A gentle hand stroked an embarrassed face before moving to pet the Scout’s hair. The tip of the saw hovered.

“I’ll be vaiting, little rabbit.”

The Scout felt cold steel impale his chest, yet it felt nothing compared to his anguish upon waking up in respawn. Lucky for him the battle soon ended. He ate dinner and returned to his room. The bare walls stared back at him, laughing. Soon he curled up in his bed, wide awake.

His hand wandered downed between his legs. The feeling remained: tender, skilled, willing. He shuddered. With a growl he sat up and slammed his fist into the wall. The pain did little distract. The Scout hung his shoulders low before standing. Everything pointed to stop. He should turns around, he should stop walking, he shouldn’t stand before the door.

“Fuck.”

RED’s base lay barren, the mercenaries asleep. All but one. The light to lab poured from under the double doors. The Scout sighed and knocked. The stern doctor opened the door, face weary from research and medical work, but as soon as he saw his pet his eyes glinted, a smile cracking at once.

“Guten Abend, Liebe.”

“Just, just one night.” The Scout rubbed an arm, refusing to give eye contact.

The Medic smirked back, eyes piercing. He made sure to lock the door securely once the Scout stepped in. the RED mercenaries assumed the screaming and moaning was the result of another twisted experiment.


End file.
